Wounded
by TheUn-POP-ableBubble
Summary: Hell Night was not kind to anyone, but some wounds run deeper than the flesh and bone. Nightmares are being realized. Daltonverse, Julian-central
1. Logan Remembers

**Author's Note: Because every Dalton fan has their own ideas of how bad the results of Hell Night will be. This was written up a long time ago and I only just rediscovered it in my saved Word documents. Go figure. Small, incomplete, angst-filled drabble series. I don't think there are many happy endings here, though I hope for better in canon.**

**Disclaimer: Nothing of this world belongs to me. That honour rests with Mama CP. =)**

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><p>The weather was overcast.<p>

That was the only thing Julian was free to discover for himself. Confined to lying in a hospital bed for four days limited any other activity besides sleep, though his 'sleep' was more than uncomfortable, given his immobile arm and the bandaged burns on his hands, back, and face. Julian hated it. He hated even more that it was the first day he was graced with a visitor – a visitor he'd have rather not seen, at that. Not so soon, anyway.

Not ever, preferably.

"Julian," the room's atmosphere fell upon the occupants heavier than before, his name being the first thing to be said since the blonde stepped in fifteen minutes ago. Julian half wished he were back in that fire – far away from here, with a never-ending stream of burning plaster falling between him and this boy. "What you said… What that creep made you say-"

"Logan," Julian's single, unbandaged eye gave the blonde a more penetrating stare than any pair ever had. Even Blaine's. Even Joshua's. Even Kurt's. "Don't."

"But you-"

"I asked you to forget everything I told you then," Julian was breathing very tensely now, though his voice remained even. He hated this. Absolutely _hated_ that Logan was there for him _now_. _Now_ when everything was completely wrong and screwed up and couldn't be fixed or taken back.

Logan's expression bent and shifted, confused. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I asked you to forget," the brunette repeated, as if bland repetition would somehow compel Logan to listen and obey. As if it would erase that awful moment in time when his most precious secret was dragged out of him, for everyone to hear. "Now I'm asking why you haven't done that yet."

Logan shook his head and leaning forward in his chair, trying to convince his friend, "Jules, I can't just… _forget _something like that. No one could! For Chrissakes, you said you-"

"What I _said,_" Julian paused to take a breath. His voice was becoming a little too strained to be recognized as controlled, and control was what he needed right now. Perfect control – control he _knew_ _he had_. Exhaling, and renewed with solemn conviction, Julian continued, "was to forget all of that. It never happened, Logan. It wasn't real."

"The hell it wasn't!" Logan stood, green eyes as furious as Julian had ever seen them when he was in a rage. If Logan's left wrist and right arm hadn't been broken from the incident, Julian was sure he would've thrown or smashed something by now. As it was, the only thing left for him to do was storm around the room, like a provoked and impatient tiger. The only thing left for him to destroy was Julian.

"You said you were _in love with me! _Since freakin' _freshmen year!_ And you know what? I know there have been times you haven't been completely honest with me, when you just plaster on your smile and _act_ – just like you've been trained to do since_ birth_ – and _lie _to me. _To my face!_ But what you told me in that fire – that wasn't a lie. I know you, Julian; I _know_ how to read you and I am _not_ forgetting one of the _few_ times that you were real with me!"

Julian, his unwavering gaze having stayed strong and steady all throughout his friend's tirade, looked away and didn't say a word, as though he were severely bored. It was the first time Logan noticed how tightly his friend was strangling the sheets – the second degree burns on his hands completely unacknowledged.

But then they suddenly fell slack, while simultaneously his eye shut and his breath rushed out all at once, as if Julian was finally letting go of everything, dropping any and all thoughts in his head, aches in his heart, cares in his world. The beeps of his heart rate even slowed their tempo.

Feeling the familiar rage begin to rise within himself, Logan tensed his jaw, straining to keep himself in check. He knew what this was. Julian had thrown him out of a room without uttering a single sound once before – and now he was doing it again. He had pushed him too far. And Julian had shut him out by shutting himself off. Nothing he said would even register with Julian now.

Angry, but straining for control and calm more than he ever had, Logan stormed out of the room, kicking at anything he could on the way out.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Never fear gondaliers. He returns. Eventually. And if I ever get around to writing that bit. -.-;<strong>


	2. Kurt Lies

**Author's Note: Julian and Kurt are one of my favourite friendships. Unfortunately, I don't do Kurt any justice in the diva department so I'll keep this one focused on Julian.**

**Disclaimer: Still nothing here to call my own.**

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><p>On a sunnier day, a different boy entered, his own bandages securing his ankle and wrist. Hobbling over to the sleeping Julian's bedside, Kurt Hummel took one look at the actor and, rolling his eyes, brought out his uninjured hand and squeezed Julian's wounded arm, effectively spiking his heart rate, opening his eye, tensing all his muscles, and making him cry out in pain.<p>

Kurt shouldn't really have revelled in the actor's pain. But he kinda did.

"Will you stop being such a drama queen?" Kurt chided, voice portraying annoyance and showing none of his inner satisfaction. But Julian must have seen it somehow because he smirked, even through the slow-to-recede pain.

"Outshining you, am I, Hummel?"

Kurt gave a derisive scoff, "As if you could."

Julian laughed but then the coughs started up. The mixture of smoke and paint fumes from that night had done horrible damage to his lungs. To all their lungs really, but Julian's body had reacted to it with alarming sensitivity – both the doctors and his best friends had been very worried about its recovery, and Kurt couldn't blame them; soon after he first met the prima donna, Kurt heard mention that Julian once had a terrible experience with smoking and had kept far away from it ever since. He imagined inhaling smoke from a burning building was something Julian labeled as '_Things to Stay Away From Because They Pose Dangers to My Health and Well-being_'.

He wondered if Julian labeled certain people like that too.

Settling down in the chair Logan had once occupied, Kurt asked, "How are you?"

Julian sighed for a long time. "Alive."

Kurt nodded. He, too, felt that, considering all that had happened – all that _could _have happened – it was a true blessing to still be breathing, let alone be conscious. Most of the other boys were fine enough to rest at home but poor Reed still hadn't woken since the explosion that took them all down. Shane was near to driving himself crazy remaining at his bedside night and day. Blaine had taken it upon himself to feed the hysteric boy and keep him company when he could. But after the brothers' _fourth_ argument on the importance of rest and proper supplement and why they should be a priority, Kurt felt he needed a change of company. Why had _Julian bloody Larson_ seemed like a good idea? Kurt figured some of Dalton's insanity had finally worn off on him.

"How are you?" The actor asked, turning the fashionista's question to him.

"Good," he replied, "I mean, as good as I could be." He held up his wrist, showing off his colourfully signed cast, "So long as I can keep out of trouble, there should be no complications at all while I heal."

Julian gave a weak smile. "You're lucky." It was bland and pale compared to the one he used for all the cameras. More sad, more sickly.

Kurt bit his lip. "I take it that you still can't…"

Julian just shook his head, not even asking how word got around to Kurt. Hearing the weight of his breaths, Kurt realized he had never seen the actor so close to crying (for real) before – and he had seen Julian through all the stress leading up to Hell Night.

"Have the doctors said anything?" Julian didn't respond, still trying to reign in his tears. Ever the optimist, Kurt continued, "Because they've got to have some sort of… solution. You're _Julian Larson, _for Gaga's sake, you're paying for the best doctors money can buy!"

"Yeah, well," his breath shuddered, as though Julian were fighting for every bit of control he could muster, "maybe not even money will make me walk again."

"Oh, of course it will!" Kurt wasn't actually as confident as he sounded. So they were both acting. "Look, you're not the only one this has happened to. I had a friend in my old Glee club from McKinley, Artie, and he's been in a wheelchair since he was eight. But he did some research – there are some _really_ promising studies going on out there, maybe more he didn't find. With your influence and cold hard cash, I'm sure they could advance progress even further. You know, speed up the process a little bit."

Julian shut his visible eye, desperate to keep the tears from escaping. No one was ever meant to see him cry and he had already broken that policy with Logan. He didn't need to break it with Kurt too.

But he did. Julian was tired of fighting to keep everything that was real locked deep inside of him and there was no public eye scrutinizing his every move; a slow stream of tears ran down his cheek.

"My life is over."

"That's not true," Kurt protested. But his words were weak, his tone soft – his lie transparent. Especially to Julian who had to lie for almost all of his entire life.

"It _is_," he insisted, his voice becoming more angry than sad. "You really think anyone will hire me after this? Evenif half my face _wasn't _burnt and mangled?"

"There's more to your life than an acting career, Julian."

"I can't feel my legs, Kurt!" The words were loud and intense. Julian had finally exploded. "Every morning I get a doctor in here poking and testing and asking me to wiggle my toes or if I feel anything! But I don't! I don't feel a goddamn thing and I am _sick _of it!" _That's right; turn the pain into anger, Julian. Transform your pain as often as you need to – so that you never hurt so bad. Make others hurt, not you. Make others cry, not you. _"I'm sick of the doctors, sick of the nurses, sick of the food, of the paparazzi and their news reports, of just _lying_ here, of the memories, and worst of all, I'm sick of Logan butting his way in here and pretending like he gives a real rat's ass about -"

Julian's rampaging tirade was abruptly cut off by a series of jarring coughs that had Kurt reaching out to help however he could. This consisted mostly of supportive hands stabilizing his trembling shoulders and calling nonsensical things to him such as, "Are you alright?" and "Just calm down, Julian! Try to breathe!" Eventually the fit passed, but Julian could taste blood in his mouth where there hadn't been any before. He swallowed quickly, fighting the gag, careful that Kurt wouldn't see.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: So now you all know how bad I beat up Jules. Sorry Julian, but it had to be done. ='(<strong>


	3. Carmen Cries

**Author's Note: Been a while but I'm back with a super short segment. Expect more updates in this story! Cuz this is the piece I'm most inspired on to work!**

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><p>"They think you died in that fire – the fans, the paparazzi."<p>

This comment did nothing to pull Julian's focus away from the ceiling; his dot count was up into the thousands and he'd be damned if he let something so insignificant pull him away from it.

"Some think you might be dying now – that there's nothing to be done for you."

That, at least, was true. Both statements were, when one took the time to really look at them.

"You've received a lot of fanmail wishing for a full recovery. You even have a few flowers, gifts…"

Carmen's posture sank. It was a rare occurrence when she didn't know what to do or how to cover up a scandal. She was usually so good at lacing up disaster in ribbons and sparkles but this… this torn up _child_ in front of her bore no resemblance to the star she once knew he was. He had once shone as bright as a super nova! And now he was a black hole, retreating so far into himself and seeing only darkness because he wouldn't let any light shine through into his life.

Carmen wondered if there was anything that could convert a black hole back into a super nova – or anything that could convert a black hole period.

"Please Julian," she pleaded, the pleasantries over and done with, "people are worried for you – your friends especially. No one wants to see you do this to yourself…"

Julian breathed heavily for a moment and broke his count to look at the woman who had seen him through so much. He held her as close to his heart as any child would a guardian, and for that she deserved his attention. "What am I supposed to do, Carmen? I feel even less than I did before and I don't know what to do anymore… I don't know what I _can_ do."

Reaching a hand to his shoulder, Carmen replied, "You can release it, Julian. Let go of the suffering and loss that you feel."

"Why would I do that? _How?_"

She meant to suggest running in the rain pouring outside his window when she remembered his greatest injury and froze, her mouth open with nothing to say. As if knowing her thoughts, Julian began to cry and let his head fall to her shoulder, trusting her like he had rarely trusted others. Tearing up herself, Carmen cocooned him in her arms, hoping with all her might that when he emerged something would have changed.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: I really think Julian loves Carmen - I could see them having a close, mock child-parent relationship. And for this bit I wanted Julian to have a moment of 'protect-me'. Obviously I thought of Derek or his parents but I think Carmen has a bigger role to play in his life than either of Jules' parents and I wanted to save Derek for another time. Tune in soon for the next bit! I'm introducing my own OC who may surprise you all! Want a teaser? Her name is Monique. ;)<strong>


	4. Monique Smiles

**Author's Note**: Been a really long time since I posted anything so I started up polishing and delivering this piece to you - whoever you may be. As I wrote this story up, I realized that I was making Julian far too stuborn (gee, can you imagine?) and that he could use a really strong influence from someone unexpected. CP's appearance in this chapter is as much a device for Julian and the story as it is a tribute to the wonderful woman herself.

She hears how amazing she is from a lot of people - all of it well deserved and graciously and humbly accepted - but I honestly don't think it could be said enough. There's no story from me; CP didn't pull me out of a dark place or give me a new purpose in life or was a friend to me when I had no other friends. But she _has _inspired me to explore myself more thoroughly, to explore her characters and gain a new understanding on people in my life, to seek out to understand others more clearly. She is a song worth singing to - over and over again.

That being said, my usage of her work is not a theft (nor, I hope, an insult). It is an exploration - and non-profit, at that. ;)

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><p>On a day where the wind was pressing against his window so hard it was<em> howling <em>like an animal in pain, Julian had his first visitor who was a complete surprise.

She came bursting through the door in a flash of white fabric and black pigtails, shutting it behind her and diving for the bedside furthest from her entrance. Ducking, she flashed the gobsmacked Julian a smile and a shush signal then proceeded to steady her heavy breathing, all the while keeping bright eyes trained on the door.

Moments later, a shadowy blob came to the blurred window. The doorknob twisted as though it were about to open when another voice – perhaps a nurse or doctor – called out and denied them entry into a patient's private room. The girl snickered quietly. A few more words were exchanged between the two people outside the door but eventually they both left from the window, moving elsewhere.

"Score!" The girl did a light fist pump in celebration before remembering that it was Julian's room. Looking to him, her expression turned a little sheepish, though neither regret nor apology could be found anywhere on her face. "Thank you, for not calling me out."

"Anytime," he responded, still unsure what to make of what appeared to be the mischief-maker that had sneaked her way into his room.

"It's a game I play with my cousin," she explained, moving to clamber up on the bed. "My aunt's here in the hospital and sometimes she and my mom like to be alone while we visit. But I'm a lot faster than he is, so I always win."

"You don't say."

Kneeling next to his injured legs, the girl beamed another smile at him and Julian realized she was younger than he had first thought. She might have been ten or so, rather than the age of twelve he had first guessed; she was big for her age, or maybe just a fast or early grower. Her white dress certainly did nothing to make her smaller; the lace material was loose but poofed, managing to give her a bigger presence than her smile naturally did.

Julian felt the professional actor in him rise up for the first time in a long time. His well-trained and critical eye noted that she had a beautiful face for photogenic purposes. She was charismatic too, a very genuine personality. People all over the globe could know her face one day.

It was then he noticed her eyes were roving over all his bandaged areas. But her look wasn't a flinching glance in sympathy or a devastated gaze wondering how he would ever be made whole again. It looked a lot like… sincere curiosity. There was a certain wonder to the questions in her eyes. It was the first time someone had looked at him and he hadn't felt sick to his stomach.

"I was caught in a fire," he explained, unexplainably okay with sharing this with her.

Her eyes widened as though he were weaving a fantastical tale about a dragon and a princess. "Like, in a building?"

"Yeah."

She looked at his arm. "What are they all?"

"A lot of burns, mostly. A couple cuts, a few fractured bones."

"Do you cough? My daddy always coughs when he's near a fire."

Unbidden, a small smile graced Julian's face. "Yeah, I cough sometimes. It used to be worse but I'm handling it better all the time." That at least had been good news. The coughing and blood had finally taken mercy on him and had begun to steadily disappear. He'd been able to breathe enjoyably for days – the longest he had ever run between coughing fits.

Then his small bubble of uncharacteristic optimism was burst when Julian realized that the girl had her hands on his leg the entire time she'd been up there. He hadn't felt a thing at all. Still couldn't, it was only his visual receptors that were convincing him that it was happening. It was all a stinging reminder of the numbness of his disability. The doctors had told him about all kinds of physical therapy he would start when his other injuries healed but Julian had never been famous for being an optimist. He wasn't investing too much faith in his legs recovering.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Focusing in on the present again, Julian discovered the girl had somehow lost her balance, having fallen over and digging her elbow into his numb leg to catch herself. It was a strange sight, to see the action and expect pain but not to feel it.

"It's okay," he reassured her, sombre. "Didn't feel a thing."

"You didn't?" Her expression turned curious then grew excited. "You didn't feel that?"

Unsure in the face of her weird reaction, Julian hesitantly nodded. She let out a light 'wow!' and then proceeded to exclaim, "So you're like me!" Julian tilted his head, silently questioning what she meant by _that_. "I don't feel things either! See?" She pinched the skin of her own arm and twisted. True to her word, there was no flinch, no gasp, no painful reaction at all. In fact, she didn't even seem to notice when her skin began to go red and bruise, her fingers holding fast to their self-inflicting injury.

Creeped out, Julian slapped her hand away from her arm and cried out, "You'll hurt yourself!"

Her smile slipping, the girl looked to her arm and seemed taken aback from the damage that had been done. Curiously, she prodded at the angry bruise. Tracing it now, she began saying, "Everyone's always doing that. Checking me over and stopping me from doing things because I can't feel the pain for myself."

She looked back to Julian, his mouth open with a new understanding. She had congenital analgesia – a physical insensitivity to pain. Until now he'd only heard about the condition, he'd never actually met a person who had it.

"My mom makes me wear white all the time," she went on to say, ducking her eyes and playing with the skirt of her dress. "It's easy to see if I've fallen or something when I'm in white. Dirt and blood leave spots." It was the first time Julian noticed her knees were scraped. They weren't bleeding, but the skin was certainly raw. It had probably happened when she dived to the floor. "And I have to check myself all the time, even though my daddy looks me over every night and every morning. I get hurt real easy 'cause I don't feel anything."

Julian leaned into his pillows a little more. Her words were ringing too close to philosophical, even though he was sure she wasn't intending them to be. "Seems kind of opposite, doesn't it?"

"Mm…" she hummed, agreeing. "And everyone's always so worried for me. Even when nothing hurts, they worry anyway."

Funny. That always seemed to be the case with Julian too. People fussed over him all the time, whether for publicity, appearances, or genuine concern. Derek and Carmen were especially bad, worrying over him more than flustered mother hens. His mother too could be protective as a mama bear when slander about her son was made public. Even Logan admitted to stressing over Julian's health whenever the actor was out shooting because the blonde had never forgotten when Julian nearly killed himself.

Uncomfortable with his thoughts, Julian took a breath and asked, "Do you think they wouldn't worry so much, if you did hurt?"

The girl thought long and hard about that.

"Not if I was hurting all the time. But if they knew I felt it sometimes, then they might think I could take care of it, instead of them having to look for it all the time. They'd be happy if I could tell them when I was hurt, and where and how badly and stuff."

"What if you were hurting a lot?"

"Then they could take care of me, like they do now."

The two of them were quiet after that, lost in their own fantasies and mulling over new ideas.

"_Monique!" _The girl perked up a little at the faint call. _"We're going home soon! You win! You can come out now!"_

"I guess I should go," Monique sighed to Julian.

"Yeah," Julian whispered, no longer quite connected to the outside world, having lost himself in a rabbit hole of thoughts.

"_Monique?"_

Hopping off the bed and dusting off her skirt, Monique turned back and said, "Thanks for letting me hide away!" And with a final flash of the smile he thought might become famous, she left.

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><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: Sometimes, a small touch, an unexpected visit, a random phone call, a strange converstaion, a written work, that's all it takes to leave an imprint on someone. And Mama has imprinted on a lot of people through her love, acceptance, sympathy, and shine. You've made the world a little more beautiful, CP. I hope you know that.

Quick thing: I don't know a thing about congenital analgesia. I knew of the condition and I Googled the name - that's as far as my knowledge kinda goes. Aside from reading that they often bite through their lips or tongue as a kid, or damage their eyes really easily.


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